Cleanup on Aisle Dresden
by gusenitsa
Summary: Just read the first line of Changes. Spoilers alert. / canon divergent head canon rant (by nature of the fact that I haven't read more than the first sentence…) badthingshappenbingo prompt 10: "go through me" Dresden & Thomas brothers feels! Prompts from bad things happen bingo set in the dresden files universe.
1. Don't let them see you cry

_Prompt from bad things happen bingo: "don't let them see you cry"_

* * *

"You need a new car," Thomas hissed, as the engine sputtered and died abruptly leaving them coasting away from a dozen pissed off ghouls who had clearly differed with Harry on a fine point of interspecies dialogue.

"Take it back," Harry growled, swerving off to the side of the road and slamming on the breaks. Thomas was out of the car before it even stopped, show off, a sawed off shotgun being brandished, more for aesthetic than usefulness at this distance. Harry wrenched the wheel at the last moment, turning the vehicle to face the distant ghouls and allowing him to swing open the door and use it as a shield. He stepped up onto the seat, leaning on the hood with one arm.

Just a minute more.

"Something bulletproof," Thomas called to him. "Maybe flame resistant. I'm thinking maybe a T-34. It's a classic."

"A t-34 what?" Dresdon retorted, eyeing the oncoming herd. Too far away. He needed them lined up. Needed them closer. He didn't want them closer, but he didn't have the power for distance and power. And if he missed. Well let's just not miss.

"Tank, Harry. Old soviet model you can find them on the bl-"

"SERIOUSLY?"

"You have to admit-"

"Thomas, I don't want to inconvenience you but if you don't narrow their approach within the next 15 seconds we're both going to die."

Thomas sighed dramatically, but it took him only a second to leap over the open car door (show off) and bolt out into the field, aiming wide and then turning with unnatural speed at the ghoul on the far right. It stumbled, retreating slightly and then following Thomas as he sprinted towards the center of the group.

They converged on him and Harry's heart pounded in his chest. He had power, not finesse. If Thomas couldn't get free he couldn't unleash anything on them, much less something that would stand a chance of stopping them.

He kicked his foot back at the steering wheel without turning around, landing on the car horn on the second try, which mercifully still worked. The cars horn blared, and the ghouls turned from Thomas, remembered their original prey and resumed the chase, closing fast in a close knit group, perfect for torching.

Thomas was retreating, sprinting wide to get out of the line of fire. He looked back at Harry for a split second and Harry met his eyes. His stomach twisted at the look he could see even across the distance. It was fear.

He'd seen it before.

Ever since the Naagloshii had taken him. It was only a moment usually. When he attacked with fire, a ficker of something in Thomas' eyes that …

"HARRY!" Thomas screamed, snapping him back into focus.

TOO CLOSE.

His distracted mind had let the ghouls gain too much distance and Harry tried to focus his mind, drawing on his fear and adrenaline into rapid focus

"FUEGO!" he cried, and a column of flame shot out into the approaching column of ghouls. There was screaming, hissing and a smell that was uncomfortably like bbq that would probably put him off eating meat for at least a few hours, or until the next time he ordered pizza.

The ghouls scattered, still burning Most of the ghouls were little more than ash but Harry was too exhausted to stick around and see if any of them got back up. He dropped to the ground and managed, barely, to make his way around the car to the passenger seat by the time Thomas had sprinted from the burning field back to the car, sliding into the driver's seat and slamming the door in one fluid movement. All before Harry had managed to scramble for the door, missing the handle three times and swinging it closed with an anaemic click. It didn't quite latch but he gave up on it, leaning back, exhausted.

Thomas turned the key and the beetle sputtered back to life with a wheezing protest. Thomas floored the gas, drawing sounds from the engine that sounded like dollar signs and was back on the road before Harry could mumble show off.

* * *

Thomas drove with his eyes more in the rear view mirror than on the road for several miles before he was confident enough that they were not being followed to glance over at Harry. He hadn't bothered to put his seatbelt on and looked as though he were out cold until he opened one eye to glance at his brother.

Thomas glanced meaningfully at the seatbelt and Dresdon rolled his eyes. "I really don't think a car wreck is my fated death, Thomas."

"That would be embarrassing."

"Touche'" Harry muttered, clicking the seatbelt with a sigh and dropping back against the seat again.

"You hesitated." Thomas said quietly, eyes still on the road.

Harry opened one eye in surprise to look at him. "We're alive aren't we?"

"Why?"

"What the hell, man?" Harry grumbled, "I got us out, maybe go with thank you?!"

Thomas slammed on the brakes and Harry was suddenly glad he had put the seatbelt on. Thomas pulled off of the sideroad and stared straight ahead, his hands clenched on the wheel in a death grip that cracked something before he took a calming breath.

"Tell me why you hesitated."

"Because," Harry admitted after a moment. "I hate it when you look at me like that."

Thomas took a breath and got out of the car, slamming the car door behind him and stalking a few paces away. The anger was near radiating from him and Harry watched him, dumbstruck in confusion. Thomas clenched both fists, fighting the impulse to run. Energy that was equal parts adrenaline and frustration made standing still feel like physical pain. Harry was still in the car, watching him but giving him some space for the moment.

It was the first time Thomas realized he'd ever looked at Harry like that . He knew how Harry meant, even if he hadn't said it. Knew that sometimes when he looked at Harry he saw things. A smirk that wasn't there, a mocking smile where there was none.

It wasn't Harry.

He knew it wasn't Harry, he had known it even then. The creature had stolen his skin and left that place, left him a huddled mess of agony knowing that this wouldn't kill him and desperately wishing it would.

But then it had come back. It had come back with Harry's face. Thomas thought Harry had come for him until it laughed. His nightmares featured his brother even now, a creature with Harry's face laughing as he burned and burned and burned. The creature asked him if he should use his own face or Harry's when he destroyed Justine.

"Wouldn't she want to see your face, one last time?"

The mocking laughter. The agony. The terror. He'd burned and torn and ripped until there was nothing left, and then started all over again. When Harry had come to rescue him it had taken hours before he'd believe that it was really Harry and even now when Harry calls fire…

Thomas shuddered.

He thought he'd kept it all away from his little brother, all this horror in his head he thought he'd kept Harry from seeing it… He'd failed. And a fraction of a second more and Harry would have been a smear on the street because he couldn't keep a lid on it. He heard the car door open and Harry pulled himself reluctantly from the seat and moved toward him.

"Thomas? Talk to me?"

An irrational anger surged up and he directed every iota of it at his little brother. "If you ever hesitate because of me again, we're done. I'm gone and you will not ever see me again, understand?"

He saw a rash of emotions flash through Harry's eyes. Confusion, anger, indignation. Finally he settled on one.

It wasn't the one he'd intended.

Shame.

"I'm sorry," Harry muttered quietly. "You're right. If you can't trust me in combat..." he trailed off. "It won't happen again."

Harry turned away and Thomas cursed under his breath. He almost let Harry walk away. Almost let him believe that his brother has threatened to walk away from him for some failing of his; told himself what did it matter as long as it never happened again.

"Empty night," he cursed again and hurried to catch up with Harry, already some distance away. (Damn long legs) "Harry I-".

"I said you're right," Harry interrupted flippantly.

"Let me finish, smartass."

Harry raised his eyebrow and stopped, glancing at Thomas expectantly and a little defensively.

"I'll be gone because I won't let my issues get you killed," Thomas bit out.

Harry opened his mouth to respond, and then froze, confused. "Wait... what..."

Eloquence thy name is Dresden

"My issues," Thomas repeated, "will not get you killed. I won't let that happen. Even if it means I leave this city, this damn continent."

Harry gaped at him for a moment, his defensiveness and confusion falling away. "You're a drama queen, anyone ever tell you that?"

"Yes. But Harry, I'm serious."

Harry was quiet a moment, finally running his fingers through his hair. "Why do you do that?" he finally asked, not entirely certain he could stomach the answer. "You flinch away from me like I'm… Thomas, I'm not a good man, but I would not hurt you. You're my brother, man. Court politics be damned, you're my blood."

"It's not court politics," Thomas sighed and shook his head. "I trust you. I trust you a hell of a lot more than I trust myself." He looked away from Harry, his eyes focused on something in the treeline that Harry couldn't see. Finally he looked back at Harry. "I'm going to tell you something. Then we're going to get back into the car and possibly get dinner, definitely get you some coffee before you fall over and we're not going to discuss it any further."

Harry raised his eyebrows but nodded.

"When it took me, the skin walker, I thought it had killed you. I thought it had killed you because it wore your face. I didn't know they could do that without…" Thomas broke off, looking away again before continuing. "That thing tore me up, Harry, you know that. But that isn't all it did. And when it burned, it looked like you."

Harry's throat went dry as his brain floundered for something to say and came up with nothing but a variety of expletives that a drunken sailor would be proud of.

"Damn it." He finally settled on. It was a weak choice but a classic. "Damn it Thomas, I should have been there sooner."

"Not gunna say that wouldn't have been preferable." Thomas shrugged, a hint of a smile on his face. "I don't want your pity, little brother, or your guilt. It's done."

Harry leaned back against the car, shoving his shaking hands in his pockets. He'd overdone it, overcompensated for his delay and he could feel the exhaustion right down to his bones. Thomas turned and was heading back to the driver's side, but this felt too important to let slide back into the pile of things they just didn't talk about.

He sank back into the passenger seat as Thomas restarted the car. The silence between them was almost palpable. Finally he reached out and plucked a single hair from Thomas' head. Thomas batted his hand away with a look of irritated indignation.

"What the hell?"

"I'd find you."

"That's vaguely ominous."

"Try some dramatic 'leaving for my own good' crap and I'll just find you."

Thomas raised one perfectly arched eyebrow at him and Harry shrugged.

"Did you really need the hair to find me?"

Harry chuckled, leaning back in the seat and closing his eyes. "Nope."

"At least I embrace the drama queen persona," Thomas grumbled.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. Now drive me to caffeine or I will literally die."

Thomas chuckled and stepped on the gas. Nothing much happened, apparently 35 was about all the car had left in her.

"Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"You really need a new car."


	2. Go Through Me

**_Just read the first line of Changes. _**

**_Spoilers alert. / canon divergent head canon rant (by nature of the fact that I haven't read more than the first sentence…)_**

**_ badthingshappenbingo prompt 10: "go through me"_**

* * *

What do you even do at 2am when you've just found out _that_ and you don't even know what to do with that information? Most people would call someone right? A friend or a… or a brother.

Course he hasn't spoken to Thomas in months. What's he going to do, send him a postcard: "_Dear Thomas. You're an uncle. Try not to eat her she's not of legal age yet."_

When you have a brother you're supposed to talk about these things, right?You're supposed to have someone you can go to and say "hey I'm terrified, wanna go get a beer?"And your brother is supposed to say, "it's gunna be fine, you're going to be an amazing father" and maybe neither of you is quite sure if it's true, but he's supposed to _say it _and that's the important part.

But Thomas never answers his phone anyway, even when the call does go through. But you know what, screw it. It's an emergency. Which is how he ends up in the storage room (because no way in hell it survives his apartment) looking for the 'for emergencies only' cell phone that's probably dead. But it isn't.

And so he texts Thomas. Maybe he can tear his eyes away from whatever girl he's… (Nope, don't think about that , Dresden)... long enough to check a text from an 'emergencies only' number.

_Congratulations, you're an uncle.  
_

He wasn't really expecting a response. He was mostly expecting the thing to sizzle out in his hand at any moment but then it buzzes and surprise surprise, it's not the buzz of failing electronics but a message.

_Ha. Ha. Still not moving out of my sisters'. All you can eat buffet is to die for._

And then he doesn't have to wait for the electronics to die on him because he throws the thing against a wall and that's that for the emergency phone. So much for that.

And now he feels even worse than he did before because how the hell is he supposed to protect a girl he never even knew needed protecting when he had such a stellar record with "family".

So he decides the answer is clearly to just drink all the beer he has in the house and hope it helps him sleep. Which is a great plan until someone knocks on his door at 3am.

"If you're trying to kill me, I warn you I am in a foul mood tonight," then considering he continued "If you've lost your keys I open at 8am."

"I haven't lost my key, but I wasn't certain if you'd changed the wards." Harry froze, letting his beer hit the table with a solid thunk. _Thomas? _

Harry pulled open the door with a grunt and sees his half brother on the other side, looking fresh as from a photoshoot, _bastard,_ as though he hadn't probably been pulled from bed at 2am.

"You change the wards?"

"Yes."

Thomas nodded. "Probably wise. Can I come in?"

Harry hesitated a moment, eyeing his half brother carefully. He didn't look like he was on a bender, his eyes their normal blueish grey. He'd probably have to change the wards _again _if he let him in. Molly was here alone too often. It would take days and more power than he could spare. He _shouldn't_ let him in.

"Sure." He disarmed the wards before stepping aside and Thomas moved easily into the room, eying the empty bottles on the table.

"So. You've got me here. What was so important you had to make up a kid to get my attention? I swear if this is more of the same, Ha-"

"A kid."

"Hmm?"

"I have a daughter."

Thomas paused for a moment, Normally when you say someone paused you don't mean it exactly. But when Thomas paused he sometimes forgot that humans are supposed to move, breathe, fidget, _something. _Thomas actually _paused_ and after a moment Harry wanted to poke him in the eye just to see if he'd blink.

"Sorry," he shook his head slightly "just needed to process… a daughter?"

"Mhmm. She'd be… what 8… 9?"

"You're asking _me_ when you conceived a child?"

Harry shifted and tossed his mostly empty beer bottle at his brother, who caught it and finished the last few swigs as smoothly as though it had been handed to him.

"They've taken her."

Thomas' eyes narrowed and Harry had his full attention again. "Who?"

Harry shrugged, "they?"

"What the hell does that mean?"

"I have no idea. Susan is on a plane now."

"Empty night, little brother," Thomas ran a hand through his hair. Somehow it made his hair look even _better. _The bastard.

"Yeah."

Thomas sighed and went to the icebox, pulling out a bottle. He opened it without comment, drained half of it in one pull and then turned. He dropped easily onto the couch and sighed as though settling in.

"What are you doing?"

"Drinking," he said flatly, "I'd offer you one but it looks like you've already had quite enough."

"What are you doing _here, _Thomas."

"My bother called, where else would I be?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "You've been ignoring my calls for months, asshole."

"That's because you wanted to talk about _me. _Normally _me_ is a subject I quite enjoy but you have to admit the conversations were getting a bit circular."

"And now you're what, Team Dresden again?"

"Never stopped being Team Dresden," Thomas retorted. "Someone wants my family, they go through me. That's the rules."

Harry opened his mouth to retort, to point out that what he was _doing_ was sure as hell not Team Dresden. That he was… then he stopped and closed his mouth. Because he was _here. _And right now… Harry really needed his brother _here. _

"Thanks, Thomas."

* * *

**_I know I'm not going to get this but…. Look all I want is angst and pain and brotherly bonding is that so much to ask? Look what you've done to me pirate-owl. This is totally your fault! _**


End file.
